


We Need To Talk

by ereshai



Series: Marvel Shipping Games [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Mr. and Mrs. Smith (2005)
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 07:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2261466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/pseuds/ereshai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Too bad she had to kill him; she was starting to want to save their marriage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Need To Talk

**Author's Note:**

> For the Marvel Shipping Games bonus round 1 prompt: Coulson/Natasha, Mr. & Mrs. Smith crossover

"I must admit,  _darling_ , you're harder to kill than I expected." Natasha Smith, nee Romanoff, ejected the empty clip and inserted a fresh one into her handgun. She used a piece of the huge mirror that had once hung above their mantelpiece to check the hallway.  
  
Phil - Coulson, not Smith; were they even really married? - was nowhere to be seen. Not that she had expected to catch him so easily. She was reluctantly impressed by her mild-mannered husband's skills; they reminded her of why she had fallen in love with him.   
  
"I'll take that as a compliment." Even fighting for his life, he sounded unflappable. Too bad she had to kill him; she was starting to want to save their marriage.   
  
"You should. I don't usually have this much trouble." She crept backward, away from the doorway, avoiding the broken glass and splintered wood littering the floor. He was in the bedroom, and there was no way out of there, not even a window; at least, no way that he knew of. She just had to get to the basement and up through her hidey-hole without him realizing she wasn't guarding the hallway anymore.  
  
Natasha opened the trapdoor carefully. It was well oiled; it didn't squeak. She pulled herself up into the walk-in closet, and stood by the door. Phil was still in there; she could hear him checking his gun. She took a step back, kicked open the folding door, and rushed out, aiming her gun where she estimated Phil was standing.  
  
He wasn't there. She turned, but it was too late; something hard and heavy smashed into her head.  
  
Natasha came to tied to a chair. Easy enough to escape, as soon as she neutralized Phil, who was sitting across the room. She just needed to lure him a little closer...  
  
"Honey," he said, "we need to talk."


End file.
